


sans is sparing you.

by Sparrows



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Embedded Images, Gen, Genocide Route, Spoilers, Spoilers - Genocide Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrows/pseuds/Sparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"listen. friendship... it's really great, right? let's stop fighting."</p>
<p>Sans makes an offer. Frisk accepts it. [Spoilers for the Genocide route's ending.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	sans is sparing you.

It was almost silent in that vast, empty hallway. For a long time, neither of them spoke. The only sound to be heard was ragged breathing - from the human on one side, and the skeleton at the other. Frisk - or was it Chara, now? The two were the same, surely - knelt on the floor, trembling with exhaustion, hands braced against the cold, golden tiles. Blood spattered the ground beneath them. And Sans stood opposite them, barring the way, with his hands shoved in his pockets to hide how he was shaking, too. It had been a close fight, despite the fact that it had played out many times before, in other worlds and other timelines.

He stared down at the human, wondering if they would take the mercy he had offered, and wondering if he actually wanted them to. They'd killed Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, and every other monster in the Underground save for himself and Asgore. There was no possible reason for them to back down now, of all times, when their goal lay just beyond this hallway.

But he had to _try_ , at least. He knew that if the human cut him down, then they would go on to end the timeline. It had happened before, the reports said, and he knew it would undoubtedly happen again in other timelines, but in this one - in this one, maybe he could convince them to just stop. To stop, here, before they did something that couldn't be reversed. They hadn't spared his brother, but maybe, just maybe, what Papyrus had said to them then had stuck with them now.

Just as Sans was beginning to doubt whether he was actually going to get a response, the human stood up. They were still shaking, and it took them an excruciatingly long time to stand up, but they did it - and Sans felt a flicker of fear. He couldn't keep dodging forever, but neither could he afford to be taken off-guard. The human lifted the gleaming knife in one fist, staring at it but making no move to attack.

Slowly, with a jerking, almost puppet-like motion, the human moved, holding their fist out to one side.

The sound of the knife clattering against the gold-tiled floor seemed to echo for far, far longer than was reasonable, ringing around the pillars and walls. Sans stared at the knife, watched it bounce and come to a stop, and realised with a start that the human was watching it too.

"I'm so sorry, Sans."

Their voice was quiet, a little rough around the edges, and utterly exhausted. The human lifted their head and looked him in the eyes.

Something had changed. Before, every time Sans had seen the human, they'd looked practically demonic; red-eyed and smiling, with deep shadows under their eyes and white powder smeared on their skin, in their hair, clinging in clumps to their feet and ankles where they'd kicked through piles of it without a single shred of remorse.

But now the human looked at him with tired brown eyes, with a smile that did not seem so dangerous any more, and with tears glittering on their eyelashes instead of powder. Blood dripped from their nose, from their mouth, welled up in scratches and under the skin in bruises - tokens of a difficult fight.

Sans tilted his head. Light flickered in one eyesocket, a quick yellow-blue-yellow-blue flash before fading back to white. "that a yes to the 'stop fighting' thing, kid?" he asked. Hope swelled somewhere inside his ribcage. "i mean, if it is, great."

They nodded. "I never wanted this. Chara, they - they made me do _awful_ things. They took over. I wasn't strong enough to resist, then. But I'm me now." As the human spoke, they looked back at the knife, still lying exactly where they had dropped it, gleaming in the light. They reached up and slid the locket from around their neck like an afterthought, letting the tarnished metal dangle from their fingertips before tossing that, too, to one side. It seemed heavier than it should have been, bouncing once before coming to a perfect stop.

They had given up their weapon and now their armour, too, and Sans realised that Frisk - because this was _Frisk_ he was speaking to, not the demon living in their skin - knew exactly what he was intending, why he'd offered mercy, and was... accepting it? Making it easier, even. It was a far cry from the beast he'd seen and fought before.

Again, that little surge of pity. " _finally,_ " he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "buddy. pal. i know how hard it must be to make that choice." He held up his hands, open and beckoning, and allowed himself to smile. "i want you to know, i won't let it go to waste. c'mere."

Frisk smiled too, a tired, sad little thing that was heartbreaking (metaphorically speaking, of course) to see. "Thank you," they said quietly, stepping forward. The footsteps echoed in the hallway and Sans struggled to keep himself from backing away, preparing for an attack, even though he knew Frisk wouldn't hurt him - had never really _wanted_ to hurt him.

Frisk's arms slid around his bulky frame and they rested their forehead against his shoulder, giving him a faceful of dust-covered hair; up close like this, he could hear the thin rattle of their breath in abused lungs, feel the way they shook from exhaustion and injury, and he knew. He knew it would only take a moment to run their soul through with a single, well-placed attack, and then it would be over. But first... he carefully took his hands from his pockets and put them around Frisk, alarmed by just how small and skinny the human child was.

The hug was warm, and kind, and it was all the exact sort of thing that a murderer didn't deserve. But really, he thought, had Frisk ever been the one in control? The person hugging him now was hardly the same nightmare that had cut their way through the Underground to reach Asgore. Maybe Frisk had been a victim all along, too.

Finally, Sans could put it off no longer, and he stepped back. Time to end this, before Frisk lost whatever control they'd managed to wrench away from the demon. Frisk wiped their nose on their sleeve, smearing blood along the striped wool of their sweater, before giving him a single, determined nod.

Sans lifted one hand into the air, and a single spear-like bone shot up from the tile and pierced Frisk's chest and soul without a sound. For a moment, it seemed like time had stopped, just like that, a single freeze-frame shot of the human lifted off the floor by the power of Sans' attack. They were smiling. They were smiling, even though they were dying.

Frisk's soul shattered apart, little red pieces scattering across the floor with a tinkling, almost bell-like sound...

...and then the hallway was silent once more.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me while I was thinking about what reason there could possibly be for fighting Sans and taking the bait and sparing him when he offers. So then I wrote this, and then I made the gif from Youtube footage and a little Photoshop trickery!


End file.
